


Soothe

by draculard



Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [9]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Bilbringi AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Thrawn Lives AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Some nights there was a slight twitch, nothing dramatic. Some nights there was a quiet mutter, unintelligible words slurred together in Thrawn’s sleep.Other nights...
Relationships: Gilad Pellaeon/Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo
Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904581
Kudos: 39





	Soothe

The signs were subtle — but then again, so was everything about Thrawn. Pellaeon would wager the rest of the crew never noticed. Since the Noghri attack at Bilbringi, they hadn’t had the same opportunities to notice that their captain did.

He propped himself against the headboard while Thrawn slept pressed up against Pellaeon’s side, his nose brushing Pellaeon’s hip, his breath warming the skin of Pellaeon’s thigh. Some nights there was a slight twitch, nothing dramatic; some nights there was a quiet mutter, unintelligible words slurred together in Thrawn’s sleep. Other nights—

He noticed the change in Thrawn’s breathing pattern right away. Pellaeon slid his datapad to the empty spot on the mattress to his left and lifted his hand. Gently — it was vital that he do this gently — he rested his hand on Thrawn’s shoulder, letting the heat from his palm warm Thrawn’s skin a moment before he gave him a minute shake.

“Thrawn,” he said softly. “Wake up.”

Red slits appeared in the darkness, focusing blearily on Pellaeon’s face. There was a pause, then a sharp intake of breath, and then Thrawn’s eyes closed again. He rolled over onto his back, scrubbing sleepily at his face. He sighed and took a deeper breath; one hand slid down to wrap loosely, protectively, around his throat. The other he turned over, examining the chrono attached to his wrist. 

Pellaeon watched it all, cataloguing the changes in Thrawn’s expression as he noted the time and realized he hadn’t been woken to start his shift. His eyes shifted to Pellaeon, his face expressionless.

“Well, don’t just sit there staring at me,” Pellaeon said, letting some false irritation bleed into his voice. Thrawn preferred it that way — for both of them to pretend nothing had happened, for Pellaeon to treat him the same as always. He patted the empty space on the mattress that Thrawn had just rolled away from. “Your spot’s getting cold.”

Thrawn glanced at his chrono again, seemed to hesitate, and then shifted over. He stayed on his back, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, his hair tickling Pellaeon’s thigh.

“What are you reading?” he asked, the haze of sleep still heavy in his voice.

Pellaeon picked the datapad up again. He hadn’t been reading at all, really, so it took him a moment to click on the nearest file and load it up. He knew why Thrawn was asking — because if they talked about it, they would get nowhere. Pellaeon would ask what he dreamed about; Thrawn would deflect, say he was fine, cut the conversation short. 

But that didn’t mean he didn’t need to hear Pellaeon’s voice.

“Going over the  _ Inexorable’s _ battle reports from the skirmish over Dantooine last week,” he said. He glanced at Thrawn, noting with a spike of anxiety that he still stared at the ceiling, his eyes blank, lines of weariness on his face. He eyed Thrawn’s chest as it hitched, the movement subtle, just barely noticeable for someone who was looking for it.

“Read to me?” Thrawn requested, voice steady. It was like he’d seen Pellaeon studying him and wanted to distract him; likely, that was exactly what had happened, Pellaeon thought. He cleared his throat, scanning the report for a good paragraph to start on. With his free hand, he reached out — casually, like this was the least important task he had to do, when really it was the most important — and grabbed Thrawn’s, twining their fingers together.

“We deployed three light cruisers,” he read, keeping his voice a low murmur, “and two squadrons of TIE fighters to meet the enemy in a Ulma Rux formation.”

Their hands rested on Thrawn’s chest. He could feel the steady movement as Thrawn’s breathing evened out. Pellaeon scarcely understood a word he read; his attention was focused on Thrawn, on the colder-than-normal temperature of his skin, on the slowness of his breathing as he drifted back to sleep, on the calluses on his fingers as Pellaeon’s thumb rubbed soothing circles across his hand. 

He didn’t breathe easy until Thrawn was asleep again. He turned the datapad off and let the darkness rest his eyes, the sting and dryness of sleeplessness leaking out of them at last. Lying down, he pulled Thrawn closer to him, careful not to wake him or ignite his reflexes while he slept.

There would be no more nightmares tonight, Pellaeon hoped.


End file.
